Dancing On Air
by Prophetic Fire
Summary: When the music shifted back into a more generic club beat, she sipped on her drink. "I was watching them dance. I like the way they move. There's so much strength there, but so much grace too. I can't dance like that." "You dance?" Gala asked. Aerie nodded. "Just some stuff I picked up watching holovids and street performers. I mean, we don't get trained to dance, right?"


Aerie took another sip of her drink––something fruity and tangy and the same neon fluorescent color of the Entertainment District, with an afterkick that burned all the way down––and watched the stage. Those two Twi'lek ladies were dancing again. She loved watching the way they twirled around the poles, sliding through the air as if it were water, their bodies almost weightlessly suspended in increasingly intricate figures. There was such grace in their movements. True artists. She'd realized after only a few forays into civilian life that not everyone considered dancing around a pole to be an art form, but then, what did civilians know? All dancing was an art form. They certainly seemed to appreciate it when she spun on her head in front of them and then kicked out into a pose with only her hand supporting her weight. Even left her a few credits. What she was gonna do with them she didn't know yet, but she'd think of something. She didn't need them here at 79's, at any rate.

The plastoid of her shoulder bells clacked as two troopers squeezed up to the counter on either side of her. She glanced at them. They wore the same yellow-striped livery of the 327th as she did. The one on her left had his white blond hair swept back with product, exposing two razor shaved lines above each ear. His eyes flashed beneath smoky liner. The one on her right had some sort of intricate tattoo peeking out of the top of his blacks, crawling up his neck and melting into his hairline at the temples. A medic's cross adorned his shoulder. Both of them wore the blissfully crooked smile of a pleasant buzz on their faces.

"Hey there, oil-hair," the one with the tattoos said. "Haven't seen you before."

The blond one leaned around Aerie and shot the tattooed one a disapproving look. "You can't call him that!" he reprimanded.

"Her," Aerie blurted out automatically. "I'm a girl."

"Oh," the blond said. "Sorry." He leaned around her again. "You can't call her that!"

"Whaaaat," the tattooed one drawled, looking hurt, "looks like an oil slick!"

The blond tried to glare at the tattooed one, but the corners of his mouth pulled back up into that crooked smile. Soon he was giggling.

"Sorry sister," he said between chuckles, "Uyo's an idiot when he's drinking."

"No more'n you, _party boy_ ," Uyo slurred back. " 'Sides, you'd drink too if you saw what I saw… Anyway her hair's pretty."

The blond chuckled again and extended his arm toward Aerie. "Name's Gala. _Party boy_. And Uyo may be an idiot but he's right; you have great hair."

Aerie clasped his forearm in greeting and tossed her head a little, causing the long, subtly rainbow-hued tresses to shimmer in the pulsing club lights. "I do try," she said. But she couldn't stop the blush that crept into her cheeks. "I'm Aerie."

"You a transfer?" Gala asked.

Aerie nodded. "From the 212th. Lost…some friends. Needed rehousing. I know some guys in Avril, and their squad needed filling out, so I––"  
" _Avril?"_ Uyo cut in. _"Avril Flight?_ Are you _kidding me?"_ He let out a groan and dropped his head into his hands on the counter.

Aerie felt her skin prickle. "Yeah? What's wrong with that?" These guys weren't pilots. Maybe they didn't get it. Didn't get how you stuck with your buddies in the sky, no matter what battalion they were from. That you went with who you trusted, and who trusted you, and if you had to jump ship––literally––to make it work then that's what you did.

Gala touched her arm lightly. "You'll have to excuse him," he said. "Uyo's patched up a lot of Avril pilots, and they have…a reputation."

"Ssswear to god," Uyo slurred, raising his head from his hands and looking toward the heavens, " 'f I have to pop in _one more shoulder_ because somebody's _fucking_ on the _wing_ 'n they fall off…"

Aerie snorted out a laugh. Uyo brought his head back down and squinted at her. "You're not gonna give me trouble, are you?"

Aerie flashed him a grin. "No more than anyone else."

Uyo groaned again and dropped his head back into his hands.

"He's really quite forgiving when he's sober," Gala said.

Aerie smiled in understanding. "Are you two…?" She gestured between them with a finger.

"No no," Gala said. "Just brothers." He paused to flick his eyes to the stage. "What about you? Saw you watching the dancers. 'S okay if you only like the ladies, but…you do have great hair."

Aerie laughed again, a rich chortle rather than a snort. Oh, this guy was tactful. Handsome, too, as she took in the light stubble on his jaw and the broadness of his shoulders. Must be a heavy gunner. She'd have to remember.

"I don't only like the ladies," she replied, "but maybe some other time." She turned her attention back toward the stage as well. The two Twi'lek women were finishing up their routine, to cheering and raucous applause. She joined in momentarily. When the music shifted back into a more generic club beat, she sipped on her drink. "I was watching them dance. I like the way they move. There's so much strength there, but so much grace too. I can't dance like that."

"You dance?" Gala asked.

Aerie nodded. "Just some stuff I picked up watching holovids and street performers. I mean, we don't get trained to dance, right?" She laughed, but she couldn't keep the hollow note from creeping into her voice. "If I weren't a pilot, I'd like to be a dancer."

Gala huffed a response, and the corner of his mouth twitched in acknowledgment, but his gaze drifted away. Silence welled up between them. There were a lot of things they weren't trained to do. Gala was probably thinking of some of them. Great, way to kill the mood.

Aerie downed the last of her drink with a tip of the head. To her right, Uyo had slouched on his stool, head still resting on his hands. Probably fallen asleep, from the even rise and fall of his shoulders. Gala continued to stare off into the middle distance.

"Hey," Aerie said, tapping Gala's gauntlet lightly, "didn't mean to kill the buzz there, brother." She watched as Gala visibly dragged his attention back to the present. He cleared his throat and gave her a reassuring smile.

"No no, don't worry about it. You were right. I was just…thinking about what I'd be if I weren't a gunner."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah I don't…actually know."

Silence for another moment. Then Gala shrugged. "Ah well, I've got time still." He gestured to Uyo's sleeping form. " _Needle boy_ here would probably still be sticking people with hyposprays and passing out on the weekends." He gave Aerie a fond smile and tilted his head in the direction of the stage. "So, if you don't dance like that, what kind of dancing do you do?"

Aerie smiled wide, just as the beat of the music shifted into something hard and driving.

"Why don't I show you?"

She jumped off of her stool and waded into the crowd on the dancefloor, hips swaying in time to the music. Behind her, she could hear Gala's voice––"Uyo! Get up buddy, we got a show to watch!" She turned to see Gala half dragging Uyo, who was valiantly trying to stand up on his own. The beat of the music pulsed through her limbs. Oh, this was gonna be fun.

She swayed wider, adding her arms to the beat. Clearing space. Widening her steps with every pulse. Troopers started noticing. She hopped forward, pushing them back. With a quick step she twirled around, bouncing back the other way. More troopers stepped aside. Soon a circle had cleared on the floor. In time with the music, she unclipped a shoulder bell, bent over sharply and placed it on the ground at the edge of the circle. Snapped up, twirled, took a step, unclipped the other shoulder bell. Down, place, up, twirl. Detached the plastoid around her upper arms. Down. Place. Up. Twirl. Removed her vambraces. Down. Place. Up. Twirl. Crossed her legs behind one another, bounced to the other side of the circle. Flicked her heel out. Froze. Rolled her hips. The crowd let out whoops of excitement. She detached the pieces of her chest plate and lifted them over her head. With a kick out, she sank into a split on the floor, setting down the armor. The crowd cheered louder. With another kick, she slid on her backside into the circle's center. Free of her armor, she circled her upper body in time to the beat. Front. Left. Back. Right. Front. She melted to the floor, deftly reaching into the pocket of her flightsuit. With a fluid motion, she rose to her feet, twirling, her hair streaming out around her. As she twirled she raised her arms, gathering her hair. She finished with a flourish, posing, her hair twisted neatly into a tight bun secured by the elastic she'd fished out of her flightsuit. The crowd went wild. She let them cheer, swaying her hips, waiting. Waiting for the beat. Almost. Almost. Almost. _There!_

With a kick, she bent over, folding onto her hands, then her shoulder, and then with a twist she was on her back, then on her other shoulder, as her legs spun in the air above her. Around again, shoulder, back, shoulder, and then up on her head, and with a twist of her hips she was spinning and spinning. Then down on her shoulders for a boost of momentum, then back on her head, spinning, spinning. Then palms on the floor, and her legs swept down, and she was twisting again, her legs barely skimming over the floor as they flew in wide arcs. Then down onto her back and she tucked in her legs and arms to spin in a tight ball, around and around before exploding up into a one-handed handstand, arms and legs spread wide. The crowd roared. But she wasn't done yet.

Down again, rolling through her body to push right back up onto her feet. Step, cross, step, with the music pounding through her, and she rolled her hips. Step, cross, step the other way, full body roll. Kick, twirl, kick, twirl, down into a split, onto her stomach, legs under her, roll forward, push, and she was spinning on her back again, then up on her shoulders, down on her back, up on her shoulders, and then all the way up to balance on her head, arms and legs twisting in patterns to keep her going, going, going. Then with one last twist she folded down to the floor, then shot up into a handstand again, one hand on the floor, one hand up to grab her boot, legs arched over her head.

The crowd around the circle lost it, cheering and clapping and shouting. Aerie flashed a bright grin and folded forward, rolling to her feet in front of Gala and Uyo, where she gave a small curtsey. "So _that's_ the kind of dancing I do."

Gala's face lit up. "It's _fantastic_ , I can't believe it! Uyo, tell her how fantastic she was!" He shook Uyo's shoulders for emphasis.

Uyo just squinted at her and shook his head. "You _are_ gonna be trouble."

Aerie felt her face flushing. Gala laughed and clapped her on the shoulder.

"That's drunk-Uyo for 'Welcome to the 327th'!"

She was about to say thank you, when suddenly she was picked up from behind and hoisted into the air. "Yaaaah, that's our girl!" came the shouts from below, as she was balanced on a pair of shoulder, followed by, "Amazing!", "Flawless!", "Ten out of ten!", "Fuckin' _killed it!"_

Aerie beamed. She recognized those voices. The guys she'd known, her buddies in the sky. Now her new squad. Her new family. She let herself be paraded around the dancefloor, bounced enthusiastically on those shoulders as troopers from the circle came up to her, returning the parts of her armor and professing their admiration. At the edge of the circle she spotted another new squadmate––the one she'd only just met, the pretty one, with the silver hair and the two-toned eyes––and gave him a wink, blushing furiously when he winked back.

As she was buoyed back up toward the bar, Gala and Uyo caught up to her. "Next round's on me, boys!" Gala shouted out.

 _"None_ of the rounds are on _anyone_ ," Uyo retorted. That earned a laugh from the crowd. He looked up at her, his goofy smile returning. "We'll make sure you're well-hydrated though." He gestured to the guys holding her on their shoulders. _"Especially_ if you're sharing space with these two."

"Hey!" they both exclaimed in unison.

Aerie just laughed. The rush from the dance still surged through her veins. She felt weightless, carefree, _happy_ for the first time since… She had a family again. And she knew––she _knew_ , with the same certainty that she knew she loved to dance––that this was where she was gonna stay.


End file.
